


Spice and Nightly Cider

by Kiiyoshi



Category: Granblue Fantasy (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, archive warning for Aglovale, but nothing christmas-themed actually happens, this was supposed to be a christmas-themed story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28238028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kiiyoshi/pseuds/Kiiyoshi
Summary: Nicknames, lapses in decorum, seasonal badgering—she gets away with more than what most people can imagine, and sometimes a king can indulge in turn once in a while.
Relationships: Aglovale/Djeeta (Granblue Fantasy)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Spice and Nightly Cider

The cold season was upon them, and like last year, the captain of the Grandcypher accepted the King of Wale’s invitation to hold their holiday “banquet” at the Wales Cathedral. 

(She never thought to call it a banquet, more of a party with lots of laughter and stray tinsel and merrymaking, but Aglovale had his choice of words and she realized there wasn’t much of a difference anyways when she laughed herself dead at Percival fleeing red-faced at the sight of mistletoe, the previous year's debacle fresh in his mind. She had a sneaking suspicion it was a calculated move on a certain _somebody's_ part, but she kept her theories to herself.)

Tor presented her with a mug of spiced cider, and she accepted it with a smile, blowing on the steam before nursing the warmth close to her chest. He was a mild-mannered person—smart, capable, and all the things a man needed to be to serve as the chief retainer of the Lord of Frost.

“Thank you, Tor.”

He returned her smile, the rest of his features as gentle as ever. “My pleasure. Please continue to make yourself at home.” With that, he dipped his head towards her chosen company and his lord, tucked the tray beneath his arm, and retreated back into the banquet hall. 

“Mm, he doesn’t seem to like me all that much, does he?” She brought the cup to her lips, treasuring the aroma before taking a sip. “Does he know about all the times I've tried to drag you onto our vacations in Auguste?”

The corner of Aglovale’s lips twitched. “You were always more elegant than you give yourself credit for. The staff enjoyed your last shipment of behemoth crabs and I too enjoyed the rare delicacy by your generosity… Is that amusing?”

Djeeta glanced away from him a moment too late, unable to hide her grin. Percival was like this too sometimes, the two of them having the most roundabout ways of expressing the simplest of sentiments. “Nope,” she chirped. “Glad you liked the crabs, but all the more reason why he shouldn’t worry about me stealing you away if even _that_ couldn’t get you out of your castle.”

Aglovale made a thoughtful noise, but otherwise didn’t reply. When she looked back at him, she found him gazing past the balcony as both castle staff and crew members scurried back and forth over the cobbled courtyard, tinsel and lights dragging behind them as others climbed to hang up the wreathes Aglovale had commissioned for the occasion. One was as tall as she was. 

She idly traced a finger along the mug's handle. “It’s not like it has to be a permanent thing—if there’s ever a place you wanna go, or a sight you wanna see…” She trailed off, suddenly unsure of where she was getting at. "...Well, you know how to reach me."

Aglovale, bold as he ever was, reached up to cup her cheek. It wasn’t the chill of his palm alone that sent a shiver down her spine as he leaned in closer, the scarlet of his eyes gazing at her through the veil of his lashes—not at all, but she’d never dare say it out loud. She swallowed. 

“Oh? And what if I said that I’ve never felt such an urge up till this day?”

She huffed, squeezing her mug as she frowned at him. There was that hint of a smile on his lips, and she was this close to calling him a liar—they may lead very different lives, something her younger self had trouble accepting at first, but what he suggested was just too utterly _weird_ for her to take in stride. Yet even then, something told her that he wasn’t completely joking either. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer that,” she mumbled.

He chuckled and it was a throaty sound that made her heart flip in her chest. “Everything I need and all the sights I wish to see are right here.”

Her frown deepened as she stepped even closer to him, taking and pulling his hand away from her cheek but keeping it in her grasp. “Everything you do, you do for Wales, I get it, but how would you really know without stepping off this island?” 

Amusement, mirth—those were the emotions that danced in his eyes and she couldn’t help but be all the more suspicious.

“You misunderstand,” he said, tilting his head. “Everything I need, and all the sights I wish to see are right _here_.”

There was a muffled crash in the distance followed by a few startled cries before someone else started shouting instructions in getting the oversized wreath back where it belonged.

But Djeeta was not paying attention. Her cheeks had ignited.

“I should go,” she said, setting her mug down on the nearest surface before turning towards her closest escape route—the balcony.

Scarlet smiled at her. “Is there a place in Wales where you could run from its king?”

“No, I just think it’s absolutely terrible that we left Tor to do all the decorating on his ow—” She didn’t even get the chance to climb the balustrade when Aglovale pushed her up against the wall besides the doorway leading back inside the banquet room—hidden from those inside, and far enough from the threshold to be hidden from those outside, or so she hoped.

Aglovale of Wales really was the most dangerous man on this island.

“Where has your audacity gone all of a sudden, my dear captain?” He grinned against her ear, his voice alone potent enough to keep her where he so desired.

She didn’t get the chance to correct him about being his captain either, and thankfully so when he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her with all the fervor he abstained from during every one of her visits to the kingdom.

“Your tales,” he growled against her lips, hand hitching up the hem of her dress. “Your adventure, your utter disregard for status and propriety… what more shall I allow you to indulge yourself with?”

She turned her face away from him if only to catch her breath as she squirmed against the hand that apparently possessed more wanderlust than its owner. All thoughts evacuated her head the moment Aglovale kissed her, but apparently her tongue still worked when he barked with laughter. “Fair enough,” he said before deciding to put it to a different use when he drew her into another, deeper one, disregarding the rest of her half-hearted protests.

Just when both her heart and lungs threatened to explode, he released her, but respite was short-lived when he pressed his mouth to her neck, the bite of the winter air leaving her swollen lips wanting and aching while it felt like frost itself climbed up the height of her thigh.

Enough of her awareness returned for her to wonder how long he’d been waiting for this, and how long she waited for him. Her hands moved from his chest to his sides before settling against the arch of his back, long blond tresses slipping between her fingers as the warmth of his lips and tongue left a trail of stinging cold along the contour of her shoulder. 

He devoured her as eagerly as he listened to her stories whenever she and Percival found the occasion to visit. Even as she found herself staring off into the night while string lights twinkled like starlight in her vision, she pictured him smiling at her from across the coffee table, porcelain cup and saucer perched delicately in his lap while Vyrn happily dragged the younger brother’s escapades out into the open for all of them to enjoy.

He was shameless, utterly shameless, yet he maintained enough infuriating control to keep the two of them where they needed to be. She stifled another protest.

He hummed, the low murmur of his rumbling sending another wave of shivers down her spine. “Tell me what you want. Use your words now.”

Her fingers dug into him as if to complain, and he chuckled against her skin. Oh how times had changed since when they first met, from acquaintances to enemies to his brother’s vassal to whatever _this_ was.

Now, rather than opening otherworldly gates, the man who had her pinned to the side of Wales Castle seemed more interested in opening more forbidden v—

“Your cider and bourbon, my lord.”

Another crash in the distance while Aglovale casually kept her from crumbling to the ground in pieces. “Thank you, Tor. I take that everything is progressing smoothly?” 

“Perfectly, my lord. Tomorrow’s banquet is sure to surpass last year’s.”

"I'll be pleased to see it to fruition." He voiced his approval with his knee still between her legs. "Now isn't that fortunate? It turns out your efforts weren't needed after all, Djeeta."

She would kick him if her soul wasn’t busy trying to escape her body. 

Tor sighed and she realized that perhaps she wasn’t the only victim here. “I understand that you greatly enjoy indulging in the captain’s… stories, but do remember that she _is_ a guest.”

He smirked. “It appears that I’m being chided, but I can’t allow a guest of the kingdom to find herself on the ground despite her eagerness to rejoin it.”

Tor was smart, capable, and everything a man needed to be to manage the King of Wales. If only she hadn't just banished herself from the country starting the day after tomorrow, Djeeta could’ve learned a thing or two from him.

“Please continue doing your best,” he said, finally addressing her directly as he tucked the tray beneath his arm. “His Majesty truly is due for a vacation, and your efforts haven’t gone unnoticed.”

She blinked. “Oh.”

“The bedroom does not count, my lord.” Tor dipped his head again as she instantly vaporized into the night. “I will bring a fresh cup for the captain.”

Aglovale afforded himself another chuckle when the two of them were left alone again. “It appears that he likes you just fine, wouldn't you say?”

**Author's Note:**

> Let Aglovale go on vacation, Cygames.


End file.
